


Failure Equals Punishment

by AutumnAkkiko



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/M, Good Brother Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Let Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) Say Fuck, Number Five deserves better, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, The Umbrella Academy - Freeform, Umbrella Academy - Freeform, delores is a good mannequin girlfriend, i hate myself for writing this, i hate the handler, rip five, she gives me pedo vibes sometimes, the handler is a big time creep, there will be implied smut in later chapters, tua - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 05:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnAkkiko/pseuds/AutumnAkkiko
Summary: Five failed a mission. He needs to be punished.





	Failure Equals Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more chapters, please don't kill me for writing this. If you are triggered by sexual assault/later implied rape, don't read. Your mental health is more important than a stupid fic.

“Hello, Five. So  _ wonderful _ to see you once again.” Her smooth, cloying voice escaped from her perfectly painted lips, red as the blood of her enemies. Five glared at her, his hatred evident and seeping out from his eyes. She brushed a non-existent hair out of her face, making a point of crossing her legs. Her eyes glinted with something almost otherwordly that he couldn’t place, and it made him want to run far away.

“I’d say the same except I’m an honest man.” Five replied dryly, his eyes never leaving her’s. She tapped her fingers on her desk, standing up and walking with a certain air in her hips towards him. Her obnoxious heels clacked on the hardwood floor as an almost coy smiled plagued her lips. She leaned in close to Five, backing him up towards the wall. He felt like he couldn’t escape. He could smell her perfume. White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor. He hated it.

“You don’t have to worry your handsome head with morals.” Her sickly sweet voice slipped out again. Five cringed, trying to hide the grimace that he felt would break onto his face at any moment.

“No, I choose to. Much unlike yourself.” He stared at her emotionally. She could not hurt him if there was nothing to hurt, or so he told himself. He knew her kind. Manipulative. Use any means to get what they want. She was here long before him and will be here long after he’s gone, surviving on crumbs when forced to.

Like a fucking cockroach. He liked to squash bugs. If only he could squash her.

“Ever the sarcastic one, aren’t you  _ darling? _ ” She stood up from her chair, her perfect hair still as a statue. Her perfectly lined eyes. Her perfectly lined lips. Everything about her appearance was perfect, still, and neat. Another perfect thing she was? A perfect juxtaposition.

“My name is Five Hargreeves and I would prefer if you would kindly refer to me as  _ such _ .” His fingers twitched as he replied, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. A tiny bit slipped out at the end of the sentence. He was losing his composure. The smile on her face, bordering on the territory of a smirk, told him as much.

“Don’t be so stiff.” She stood beside her desk, her talon-like nails clacking on the solid maple wood.  She strode forward, her hips almost seeming to dance with the air as they swayed. Five couldn’t stand it. The sight of her disgusted him, how she always looked so perfect but the moment she opened up her mouth she tried to entrap you.

Not a cockroach, no. She was far more sophisticated.

 

She was a spider. A black widow, venomous and killing anyone who dares love her. 

 

“I’m naturally on edge.” He replied, strain in his voice from not punching her in her face. A smile played on her lips as he felt a hand- no, a claw- place itself firmly on his shoulder, her talons digging into his flesh. He could feel them almost-  _ almost _ \- break the skin. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“We need to have a little talk.” The scent of her perfume was in his nose, and he couldn’t escape it. Sometimes he wished he had Diego’s power to not breathe. How much he would trade to just see Diego right now.

“What does this  _ little talk _ entail, exactly?” He knew exactly what she was going to bring up. He had failed. He had been working here a month, and had failed already. He couldn’t afford failure. He just wanted to get back home. He never thought he’d miss Reginald, but The Handler was giving him a run for his money. At least he had a lot of it.

“Your recent  _ failure _ .” The way she said failure made his heart skip a beat in pure anger directed at himself. She felt her talons dig into him. He was sure that if she dug them in any further, it’d break the epidermal level. He turned his head towards her, his eyes boring into her soulless ones.

“Are you going to fire me?” He hoped his hopefulness wouldn’t be evident, but The Handler could see the hope that shone in his eyes. It was pathetic.

“Oh- Oh no,  _ no _ .” She scoffed, a smirk finding it’s way to her ruby lips.

“You’re going to be punished.” She thought about the first time she had met him. She had twisted time to make him younger, late 20s, again. He definitely cleaned up nice. She lifted her hand off of him, and he had to hold back from sighing at the release of pressure. The happiness of feeling free was cut short when she grabbed his hand, entwining her fingers. He tried to pull away, but her grip was strong and authoritative. 

“If you had succeeded… you would have gotten a reward.” She chided. “Bad  _ boy. _ ” She ‘tsked’.

“I am not a child.” He growled, squinting at her. She pulled him towards the desk, and he swore he could see malice glinting in her eyes.

“Time for your punishment.” He could hear the cruelty in her voice as she drew him closer, her skin pale against hers.

“What are you going to do? Lock me in a closet?” He scoffed, using his free hand to get his hair out of his eyes.

“What would ever make you think that? I was thinking corporal punishment.” Her voice winded down to a breathy whisper that made Five feel like he was going to gag. She bent him across her desk and he heard the whizz of her hand through the air, feeling the shock when it hit him, her nails digging in. He bit his lip. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know it hurt. It happened again. And again. And again. He could almost feel himself disassociating. He wished he was at home. With Vanya. She would play quiet violin music while he read. He loved her the most out of any of his siblings. They were both quiet and introverted, liking to discuss artists or classical music. Klaus, despite his idiocy, was entertaining, always making an attempt to crack a joke and cheer someone up. He could barely feel the pain of the spanking he was receiving, focusing on Vanya or Allison or Luther or Ben or Klaus or whatever sibling flitted through his mind. Equations danced around as he tried to solve them. Anything but this. Anything.

Finally, it was over. The Handler was towering over him as he lifted himself up, taking in his surroundings once again.

“I hope you learned your lesson… don’t make me teach it you again…” She winked flirtatiously, Five grimacing. 

“I don’t think I’ll need your lesson again.” His voice was emotionless and blunt as he walked out of the room, The Handler sitting back at her desk and turning through the pages of a book as though nothing had happened. 

Five’s rear-end stung, and he smoothed his lips into a thin line, refusing to acknowledge the pain as he walked back to his office to wait for his next mission. He couldn’t fuck this one up. He had to get home.  _ He had to get home. _ He shuddered as the events of earlier played through his mind, her smirk and red lipstick flitting through intermittently. He shook his head as he went to use his hand sanitizer, wishing desperately to clean the perfume from her hands. His fingers clacked on the typewriter as he typed and typed and typed, taking respite in the fact that he couldn’t think of anything but the words in front of him, taking care to not make mistakes.

 

He couldn’t afford to make another mistake. His family was counting on him. 

 

When his workday was up, he shuffled to the dorm that The Handler provided, seeing as he was effectively homeless until she had found him. He got ready for bed, brewing himself a cup of coffee, sighing at the taste. Not bitter enough. He sat on his bed, attempting to read a book, but her face flitted through his mind, dancing a slow, long, torturous dance with the equations that were always there. He’d do better next time, he had to. Whether The Handler knew it or not, and, if she was as much of a stupid, incompetent brat as Five pinned her to be, she didn’t know that her actions had motivated Five that much to try and find a way home.

A way home to Vanya. A way home to Ben. A way home to Klaus. A way home to Allison. A way home to Diego. A way home to Luther, the big oaf. He let out a small laugh remembering his siblings and how much he missed him.

There wasn’t much he agreed on with his father, but, Five would admit it. Reginald was right. He should’ve just sat right there and ate his damn breakfast. He was young then. Stubborn, dumb. He regretted ever time traveling to any point in time  _ ever _ . It was all his fault that any of this had happened.

He sighed as he drank another sip of his coffee, closing the book. He took another sip, and another, trying to focus on the coffee that was slowly going cold. He got up and brushed his teeth, sliding back under the covers and turning out the light. But he couldn’t sleep. It was impossible. He could still feel her hands on him and how her talons dug into his skin, like he was a puppet for her to control. He probably was, to her. He could still smell her sickly sweet perfume, draping itself over her like a curtain. He thought about it. She was the personification of bad perfume. Sickly sweet, cloying, and there’s always too much of it. A spider, bad perfume. She went by many names. Five hated each and every one of those names, wishing that she would disappear from the world.

He just wanted to be back with his family, holding Delores in his arms. Delores sat on a chair beside the bed, sympathetically glancing at Five.

“Goodnight, Delores.” He said quietly, grimacing. “I love you. Sleep tight.”

He rolled over, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to pretend he was just fine, that nothing had happened. He had hated her hands on her, her claws feeling like they were mauling him whenever she dared lay but a finger on him. He pretended that nothing had happened, and, eventually, he fell asleep, a hand on the gun under his pillow.


End file.
